


Drive Me Crazy

by darnedchild



Series: Molly Hooper Appreciation Week 2016 [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Day 6: Nothing Greater Than True Love, F/M, Molly Hooper Appreciation Week, Sherlolly - Freeform, going on a car ride, is that flirting?, reminiscing about the good old times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7948873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darnedchild/pseuds/darnedchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic for Molly Hooper Appreciation Week - Day Six (Nothing Greater Than True Love)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive Me Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lilsherlockian1975 for the quick beta.

  
  


"Tell me ag—" Molly interrupted herself with a deep yawn. Normally she would have felt mortally embarrassed by something like that; but as it was currently only half past five in a morning she should have been sleeping in, she didn't particularly give a toss. "Mmmh, sorry. Tell me again, why are we even doing this? Why the sudden instance that I learn how to drive? It's never been an issue before."

Sherlock kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel as he continued to maneuver them out of the city. "Because there have been occasions where John or I have needed to drive for a case, and as you have begun accompanying me on several of my more recent cases of late—"

"I would hardly call three times 'several'," Molly cut in.

He briefly looked at her, his lips pulled down into a frown. "Four."

She held her hand up and began to count off with her fingers. "One, the contact poisoner. You called me out to the crime scene—on my day off, mind—because you didn't trust McMichaels not to accidentally poison himself."

"You know he would have found a way," Sherlock insisted.

Molly drew in a deep breath to defend the man but gave it up for a lost cause. "He probably would have, wouldn't he? The crime of passion that was really premeditated murder the week John took Mary and Lizzy to visit his sister, two." She ticked off a second finger. "Although I still don't know why you asked me to come out on that one. You had it all figured out before we even got there."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel enough that she could hear the leather crack. "I've dealt with the officer in charge before. I learned the hard way that it's best to have someone around to run interference with him."

"I thought everyone was very civil after the first fifteen minutes." She was very careful not to look in Sherlock's direction as she spoke.

"It would have been sooner if it hadn't taken him so long to work out exactly what you'd threatened to do with his finger if he dared to wave it in your face and call you 'sweetie' again."

Molly sighed and dropped her head down to her chest in embarrassment. "Heard that, did you?"

"Oh yes. As did several of his co-workers. Highlight of the investigation, actually."

"Moving on to number three." She turned in her seat so she could better see him. "Possible runaway turned kidnapping. I've tucked a lilo in the back of the lab supply cupboard in case you need me to pull another all-nighter like that one ever again. Falling asleep at the table like that played havoc with my back." She frowned and poked him in the bicep with her finger. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Sherlock waited until he'd exited the motorway to answer. "You needed the rest. It's not as if you were snoring, thankfully."

"Ohhh, is that a deal breaker for assisting the great Consulting Detective?" Molly teased. "Let's see, must be willing to cater to random whims and odd requests at all hours. Cannot be squeamish or concerned with pesky things like legalities and tact. A medical background is a plus. Absolutely no snorers."

He glanced at her with a strange expression on his face, then returned his focus to the road. "I may have been willing to make an exception in your case, but it's reassuring to know I won't have to."

She didn't try to mask her amused snort. "I can't imagine it would be coming up often enough to be an issue, even if I were."

"You never know." Before Molly could ask him what he meant by that, he held up four fingers. "You forgot the Pickman surveillance. That's four."

She shook her head. "Oh no, I didn't forget it. I had to wear a dress and you bought me dinner. That, my friend, is the closest thing I've had to a date in months."

"Really?" Sherlock tsked. "You've set an extremely low bar for what constitutes a date. How do I know this little drive in the country doesn't count as one?"

Molly rolled her eyes and made herself more comfortable. "Unless you've got a full English breakfast tucked away in the boot, you're probably safe."

He looked at her form the corner of his eye but remained silent for several minutes.

The gentle rhythm of the car lulled her into near sleep. Eventually Sherlock signaled a turn and they continued down a little lane barely wide enough for their vehicle.

Her eyes were closed and her breathing was even (and snore free) when the car finally came to a stop.

"All right, Molly. Time for you to take the driver's seat."

She sighed and sat up, reaching her arms to the ceiling and her toes to the floorboard to stretch her spine as much as she could. They were parked just off the road in a large open field. In the far distance there was a small cottage and garden. She hoped he knew the cottage owner and wasn't planning to trespass on some stranger's land. "I've got a confession to make."

Sherlock silently gestured for her to go on.

"Well, it's just that when you insisted I needed to learn how to drive without even asking if I already knew . . ."

His eyes narrowed slightly. Her name rumbled from his lips in a low growl.

"You were such a condescending arse about it . . ." She released her seatbelt and edged a tiny bit closer to her car door.

"How long have you known how to drive?"

"Twenty years. Mum's got a car. Sometimes she asks me to drive her places, errands and things like that. I was going to tell you, eventually."

"After I gave you a beginner's lesson and you showed me you were already fully capable without my help?" Sherlock held himself unnaturally still. Not a good sign.

"That might have been the original plan, the details are a bit foggy right now," Molly hedged.

"Oh for God's sake, stop hovering over the door handle as if you're preparing to run at the first sign of trouble. I'm not mad."

He wasn't? "You're not?"

He had the audacity to smirk at her. "I'm well aware you often chauffer your mother when she needs you. I was just waiting for you to tell me."

"But how? Why? Why did you insist on dragging us out here on the pretext of a driving lesson then?"

He tilted his head in the direction of the boot. "It's not a full English, but I believe Mrs Hudson packed a relatively nice and portable breakfast in a basket."

Her breath caught.

"It should have been enough to hold us over through the lesson and until lunch, when I was planning to ask if you'd like to meet the owners of that cottage over there. My parents."

"Oh."

Sherlock reached out to brush her nap mussed hair away from her face. "And, assuming that went well and they hadn't managed to chase you away with their inane babbling, I was planning to take you for a walk through those trees behind the house and kiss you, Molly Hooper."

"Oh!"

"But now there's no reason to continue the pretense of a lesson, so I suppose we could just turn around and drive back to Baker Street." He started to lean back and Molly grabbed a handful of his suit jacket to keep him in place.

"Don't you touch those keys."

He smirked as he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her closer. "Mum and Dad aren't expecting us until this afternoon. Whatever should we do to fill the time?"


End file.
